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RPlog:Etiquette 101
SF-4011 comes out of hyperspace from SF-4011 -- This is freighter sable fox in O'Paal on official business. Destination planetside.... SF-1105 just did a focused scan on you Communication from SS-9329 -- "This is the Imperial Orbital Station Guardian. State your business, Sable Fox." Morganna radios, " Business is of a business nature, I'm sendin' an authorization code now to land on th' planet." to ship ss-9329 Communication from SS-9329 -- "This is Guardian Control. Authorization granted. Proceed, Ambassador Tazecks. Hail the Emperor. Guardian out." Morganna radios, " Um.. thanks.. er, hail th' emperor..." to ship ss-9329 O'paal Spaceport Plaza This huge plaza sits directly adjacent to O'paal Major's Central Spaceport. All through the day, people of all races meet here to discuss the goings on of O'paal Major. Between two huge marble statues of long-dead O'paal conquerors you see the main via that cuts through the city to the South. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Atrox => IGNews Terminal (Imperial) - O'paal => COMPNOR Info Kiosk (enter me) => Mail Terminal: O'paal -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- South - leads to Via Ble'sha. East - leads to Outskirts of the City. West - leads to Spaceport Atrium. <*** Note Added for Log... Atrox is not Atrox, but is NPCing another Imperial.. :) ***> There is a large crowd here, and it is hard to make anyone out. But the same cafe from the other day is here, and sitting right where he's supposed to be is a lone man in red. He is sitting motionless, facing away from you, sipping on a coffiene and reading from a news holo. What you don't see are the evaluators and agents mingled in among the crowd, watching you and taking notes. You are being taped, recorded, watched, scanned, and otherwise electronically molested from all sides. And you never realize it. In an unobtrusive swagger, the scarred woman wanders into the plaza. Her eyes sweep around as though looking for someone. The scarred woman's left eye flashes as it focuses on the man in red, and then ceases it's almost constant glow, leaving the woman to look very nearly normal as she pushes through the crowd towards her target. As the woman reaches the cafe, the man in red stops reading and leans back a bit, pushing the other chair at his table away a bit wioth his foot, to make it easier to sit in. he never looks up at Morganna, but as she approaches, he takes his hood back and says, "Please, sit. This is the last civilized conversation we shall have for a while. Coffiene?" Morganna grunts and plops herself down in the chair in a rather non- ambassadorial fashion, "Coffiene would be great, I don't feel like drinkin' anythin' else at th'' moment." her eye begisn to glow again and she tilts her head, curiosity getting the better of her, "Why will this be th' last /civilized/ conversation?" her right hand swiftly brings the datapad to the table, but it remains on it. The man in red nods, and a coffiene is set in front of Morganna by a passing waitress, out of the middle of nowhere. As his face comes into view, he looks semingly like...no, it couldn't be. This man looks *exactly* like someone from your past. The voice and movements are wrong, but the facial replication is remarkable. He's a bit too tall to be that man, though. And he sits all wrong. But the image is enough to make the point for himself. These guys know a LOT about you. "You are to address me as 'sir'. That's all you need know me as, Trainee." His voice is professional and calm, but very serious. <*** Log note.. he looks like her father ***> The scarred woman's organic eye widens and then begins to swell with pure hatred as she catches view of the face, almost instinctively the woman scrambles back in her chair, saving herself from falling by grabbing onto the table The surprise wanes and she snaps rather insubordinately., "Oh, funny, funny people..." she hisses in addition, "Sir..." The man allows a smile to trace his lips. "We thought we'd just get your attention a bit, Miss Tazecks." He pulls the datapad back and places it at his side on the ground, along with a satchel. He reaches out a craggy, large hand. "I believe you have something to show me before we begin?" The scarred woman's robotic eye glows intensely and she snarls, pushing the datapad across the table towards the man, "Yeah, here's the fnarkin' pad..." she pauses for effect.. "sir..." it's probably going to take alot of work to train this untamed beast. The man in red looks up with an arched eyebrow. He hands you an ornate bracelet with an Imperial symbol on the back of it. It seems to be made out of some silver-ish material. He takes the datapad, saying, "Put this on." Morganna takes the bracelet and peers at it carefully, not very trusting after the father stunt, "What is it? Some kinda device to fry me if I say somethin' snarky?" she doesn't put it on yet, and she has completely forgotten the sir part this time. The man looks over and smiles. "We show respect to one ANOTHER. That's what this is all about, trainee. Respect. _That_," he says, indicating the bracelet, "Is an identification marker. If my snipers see someone talk to me outside this cafe, they have orders to terminate with extreme prejudice. Now, if you'd like to live, you'd best wear it, or they'll think you're target practice." His tone is quite even and sincere. The scarred woman looks down at the bracelet for a long moment and her eye casts a reflection on it. Slowly, she clasps it onto her wreist, imperial symbol facing out. The woman still isn't completely trusting, but with the life she's had, it's a surprise she isn't any more paranoid, "Don't feel like dyin' t'day.." she mutters to herself." The moment the clasp is shut, the bracelet clamps tight, drawing around the wrist snugly.The Imperial symbol begins making whirring noises, and you hear servos working within it. Suddenly there is a sharp pain in the back of your wrist, as if it were being drilled into, but there is nothing you can do to take the wristlet off...it is firmly clamped onto your arm. You feel something working its way up the back of your arm, under your skin. The man keeps an even face, only his eyes belying his amusement. "Oh, don't worry, we're not going to 'fry' you. that really is an identification marker. I just failed to mention the pain involved.." The scarred woman's eye flashes and she growls in pain as she tries to pry the bracelet off, the woman shivers and brutally slams the wrist against the table, almost as though she's trying to break her arm off, "You Bastard.." she hisses through clenched teeth. The man leans forward, mimicing Morganna's father's voice. "Come now, don't blame me. It's policy." He finishes off his coffiene. "Besides, I am a bastard...admittedly. Comes with the job.." Morganna finishes off her brutal self injury by clawing at her arm, almost tring to get at whatever is under the surface of her skin. Her mood is considerably darker and she snarls, "What the hell did you do to me?" her voice quavers slightly. Atrox holds up a controller to let morganna look at. "I never said I didn't have the 'capacity' to fry you. I'd suggest you cease that...you'll injure the DroidLet..." Morganna stares at the controller with extreme hatred, "When the hell do I get this thing off of me?" she looks at her arm and has the kind of look an animal gets before it gnaws off it's own leg. The wire under her skin finishes its movement at the back of her neck. You hear, but do not feel, a metallic clamping sound, and suddenly the wristlet breaks off and falls harmlessly to the ground. You feel no pain, no discomfort. It's as if it's a normal part of yoru body...except that you have a tny input port in the top of your wrist. Atrox leans back. "When you can learn without being force-fed the information. We must teach you the impossible, it seems. We must teach you to be human." Shaking, Morganna stares at the port in her wrist. Her left hand idly rubs the back of her neck, the last place the droidlet was, for all intents and purposes she sounds terrified, "I'm human.." she snarls... Atrox finds great humor in that. "You are a funny little thing. The files were corect." He trails off, rising. "Shall we? We have lots to go over..." He proffers his arm like a proper gentleman would... The woman has an almost ghostly look to her organic eye, and she stands slowly. With a snort she ignores the arm, "Where are we goin'?" she asks cautiously. Atrox smiles congenially, totally forgetting the past few minutes. He takes Morganna's hand and places it gently on his arm cordially. Looking directly into Morganna's eye, he says, "This is how we respond. Take the gentleman's arm, like this..." His tone is gentle and cordial, and his manner is quite friendly and inviting. The scarred woman looks almost disdainfully at the man as he gently takes his arm, but she scratches the back of her neck, "Why do I have ta do this? I thought only couples did this, and we ain't a couple.." she stares at the familiar face again and shivers. Atrox looks to Morganna. "When a gentleman offers his arm, it is impolite for a lady to refuse it." He smiles cordially, extending the arm once more. "Madam Ambassador, shall we?" Morganna raises her eyebrow and frowns, "That sounds kinda tilted, ya know... why should a lady be forced ta hold onto a man she doesn't know?" stubbornly, and none too gently, she locks arms with the man. Atrox looks to Morganna, correcting her grip and explaining as they begin to walk, "It shows a mutual respect and trust, that the man will not take advantage of her in any way. As a diplomat, you shall be made to have escorts of all shapes and sizes that you'll have just only met, and may not even like...such as myself." Morganna tromps along in a rather unladylike fashion, her old boots clunking against the ground and she sounds a little uneasy, "I fergot that diplomates have t' deal with people they don't know.." her stomach twists, "I just hope there are no fnarkin' cats." instinctively she grips her hand at the thought of it. Atrox looks to Morganna as they make their way out of the cafe and out into the plaza. "Ah, yes. I read about your dislike of Horansi and other such felines. A shame about your eye. But a useful tool for intimidation at times. You shall project quite a different image of the Empire than did your predecessor. She was, let's say, a bit different" Morganna flashes her eye and nods, a feral grin creeping over her face, "That's why I keep th' eye.." she admits, "I like th' mean look it gives me.." At the description of her predescessor, Morganna snorts, "What image would that be?" Diplomatically, the man skirts around the real question at first. "Madam Thistleborn is a bit more...personable, if you will. She's been in the public eye for years now, and would never wish to risk her reputation for the good of the Empire. You, on the other hand, are more prone to do what it takes to get a job done.." Morganna raises her eyebrow and seems a tad surprised, "So yer not gonna completely s'press my nasty side, good.. I just hope I can do things other than diplomacy.. I don't flinch at goin' th' other way... but I bet yer files say that, too." Atrox nods, swallowing hard. "You shall have to suppress your _own_ 'nasty side', Morganna. There is a fine line of manners and protocol you must walk upon every day. When there is a job to be done such as those you refer to, you'll be expected to only carry them out discreetly, and NOT as a public figure. Understood?" Morganna smiles a sick little smile, "I'm one step ahead of you.... dad.." the woman shrugs, "I've been doin' that discretly for nearly 6 months now, not in yer section of space.. but I'm still free, ain't I?" she grumbles and rubs the back of her scarred neck, "Manners an' protocol? Now those are alien concepts ta me.." she's only half joking. Atrox smiles, glad she's finally becoming a bit more friendly... The two come to a crossroads farther across the plaza, where traffic is thinner. The man takes his arm back, hailing a cab, and a speeder pulls up. He opens the door and proffers a hand to Morganna, saying "Take it. Gentlemen help ladies into and out of vehicles.." Morganna takes the hand but clearly doesn't understand, "Why do they help ladies inta speeders? Can't most ladies get in an' out of the fnarkin' speeders by themselves?" she turns sheet white, "And don't you dare tell me I gotta wear a stinkin' dress..." she plops into the speeder, still vaguely mistrusting... the face... she hasn't looked at it in a wqhile, and when she finally looks back again, she shivers, "Can you cover your face?" The man in red doesn't even speak to the driver, who pulls away. This, too, must be part of the organization. The timing is nothing less than perfection. The man sits next to Morganna, looking away. He begins talking, his hood pulled over his head, "You'll find, my dear, that being a lady in public makes things all the easier for you when you _want_ to act differently. It is a tool, a disguise..." he looks back to Morganna, pulling the hood back down. This is the face of Adlerson. "...Much like this one. A facade is a useful tool to help your enemies and _potential_ enemies believe you are one way when, in fact, you are entirely different underneath." He smiles. "And yes, you shall have to wear a dress on occasion.." The scarred woman slumps down in her seat, relaxing and closing her greyish eye, "I just don't think I'm gonna make a good lady.. I mean, look at me.." she looks at her scarred arms and grunts, looking up at the face again, and seeming a little more at ease with the familiar face, "Dresses.. I don't have th' body fer a dress..." she mutters quietly to herself and peers out the window, seeming so incredibly out of place, frightened yet almost excited. The cab rounds a few bends, and the man in red smiles condescendingly towards Morganna. "The scars could be...removed, if you so desired, you know. It's a simple procedure.." He looks at the woman appraisingly, adding, "Though if I've read you correctly, you wouldn't choose such an option, now would you?" Morganna presses her cheek ahainst the window as she peers out, blue eye reflecting off the transparisteel and back onto her face. She shakes her head, "I like the scars.. well, th' ones on my face at least.." she shrugs and turns her face towards 'adlerson', "Where are we goin'?" she seems a little edgy. Ignoring the question, the man in red looks out the window. "Amazing, isn't it? All those worlds out there, all those billions of beings..." He looks Morganna in the eye. "All that power.. How do we think we can trust you to do right by the Empire? How can we trust you to make the right decisions?" He produces a small metallic black box from underneath his robes, and pulls a wire from it with a plug on one end. "Ready for your first lesson?" The scarred woman glances warily at the box with the wire, she snorts, "Look, ya already know enough about me ta screw me over, but I'll be goin' in style if it ever comes to that..." she frowns, "What is that?"" The man in red leans over, holding out his hand. "Give me your arm. This is a lesson terminal. I need to upload some information to your Droidlet..." Morganna holds her arm close to her chest, not offering it quite yet. She frowns and her left eye flashes, "Yer not gonna be programmin' my whole fnarkin' mind, are ya? I really don't know.. can't I learn th' old fashioned way?" she shivers and rubs the back of her neck, "I hate droids.." Atrox pauses, drawing back. "I don't know, can you?" he asks curiously, as if to prompt some kind of response..." Morganna protectively keeps her wrist close to her body and shivers, "I'd rather try that than to risk havin' my brain wiped out..." Atrox shrugs, putting away the device. "Okay, have it your way." He nods to the driver, who pulls over. You notice that the cabbie has just taken you around The City in some sort of rough circle, because you are back at the Plaza. He gets out, offering a hand with an expectant look.. Special Agent in charge of training. She knows him only as the man in red. He can change faces and stuff.. Right now he looks like Adlerson. I'll give you directions via pages.." Morganna almost opens the door on her side, but then curses as she remembers what to do. The scruffy scarred woman grasps the Man's hand, with the hand /without/ the port, and grunts, "Um.. thanks.. I guess." Bourne sits on an outside table in a cafe, his arms folded as he glares into his coffee, his head down as he stares into the dark brown fluid. He constantly mutters to himself, occasionally typing ferociously into his datapad with strong, swift strokes. "Try to put /those/ terms on the treaty, huh?" He barks angrily to himself. The man in red flashes a chiding look to Morganna. "Remember to be gentle and quiet in public circumstances. Always project charm, even when you feel homocidal. That is your weapon, not your downfall. Rremember that." He leads morganna to the same cafe, where they are met by a man saying, "The Ambassador has been expecting you, madam, and he is most displeased with your tardiness..." You are shown to your old table, where Bourne sits.. Atrox looks to Morganna, whispering, "Let's see how you do... You're an hour late for this meeting..." Atrox backs off quietly as the test ensues.. Bourne throws his datapad down, glaring at his wrist chronomter as he stands, his chair flying backwards with near explosive force. "Oh, that's it...I'm not waiting any more for this.." He mutters to himself, tossing a few credits down on the table, which bounce and scatter, as he barges his way through the door. Bourne seems to regain his composure, settling down into a more seething mood as he breathes in and out, his fists clenching and finally unclenching as he takes a deep breath, standing still, not yet going through the door. Morganna listens to the man in red and bites her lip, "Um.. meeting? Noone fnarkin' told me I have a meeting..." she peers across at Bourne for a moment and wrings her fingers together, "Charm.. um.. yeah.. I think I can do charm.." she shiftily begins to move through the crowd and snorts as the 'Ambassador' flies through the doors, "I thought diplomats were s'posed ta be calm people..." she comments idly to herself before scowling, "Um.. hi... um, I'm .. Ambassador Tazecks.." even she doesn't sound too sure of herself, the woman glances around for something,.. someone... "Er... sorry to keep you.. waiting.." her words sounds strained and nervous, forced and unnatural. This is going to take /alot/ of work. Surprisingly, the man in red makes no remark or facial expression, but merely watches the exchange with interest and quiet dignity. He clasps his hands in front of him, rocking on the balls of his toes.. Bourne straightens his shoulders almost proudly, a his face slowly composing itself. When he speaks it is with almost glacial calm,, the fury held at bay by a thick veneer of ice. "Ah. Hahve. Bheen vhating here for ein /hour/!" He says slowly. "My pheople have ash- urred me th-aht this is not a mishtake on theihr part." He takes out a datapad from a pocket almost imperiously, thrusting the screen towards her, revealing an appointment message. "Ish /thish/ how you vish the rehlashions betveen our peoples to st-ahrt?" He asks in garbled Basic, almost glaring at the other abassador. Morganna unceremoniously snatches the datapad from the man's hand as it is thrust in her face, she only just manages to suppress a growl, but the expression on her face could probably start a bar brawl on less civilised worlds. She reads over the pad, "My people didn't inform me that I had the f.." she catches herself, "Fiiine meeting..." The scarred woman's eye glows a bright blue, betraying her mood, "Lay off th' stuff and let's get this meetin' started, don't want ta waste yer precious time any more.." the words come icily, with no reassurance, and more than a hint of unease. The man in red, from behind Morganna, tsk tsk tsks and makes a note in a datapad, but still says nothing.. Bourne draws himself upwards stiffly, snorting through his nose. "I haff nevair been zo inzulted in my life!" He says with insulted dignity. "No. I am tired." He says, exaggeratedly laying his fingers to his temples. "I zink I vill go back to my hotel for ein hour, and zen return." Morganna frowns deeply, knowing that she's just screwed up, so why not go royally, she passes the man back his datapad, "Well, maybe you'll be in a less insulted mood then, probably better fer th' both of us.." she looks up at the ceiling of the establishment and closes her organic eye, as though pushing back the urge to leap across the table and attempt to strangle the man, her next sentence is almost calm, "Er.. meet here, or in th' ncie cafe across th' square?" Bourne seems slightly startled that this woman has the audacity to agree with him, snorting and shaking his head. "On zecond thought, vy not make eet...oh...zay...next veek? I haff some /eemportant/ business to take kare off." He says in almost a sneering tone. Morganna sneers and narrows her eyes, she slams her hands on the table, "If ya don't want ta talk to me, fine, just come out and say it, you diplomatic twit!" the woman is fuming now, and the look on her face gives the impression that she is trying to fight her outburst, "What could be more important than dealin' with this wonderful Imperial.." she waves a hand, tryign to find a word, "Machine.." she snarls and stares down at the table. Bourne waves one hand. "Oh, I hear zat zis city has a very nice commercial deestrict...I zought I vould go on a small expedition to purchase items for my vife.." He says cooly, watching Morganna through cold eyes. "Perhaps I could zend vun of my underlings to speak vith you.." At this point, the man in red can no longer allow this to go on, and walks up to the table. He nods and looks at Bourne. "Thank you, Gabriel... That will be all for now." He looks to Morganna and asks, "Now where doid you go wrong...?" Bourne nods, his shoulders dropping as he turns back, the accent falling away. "Yes sir." He says in a clipped Core accent, turning to stand somewhat rigidly watching the two. Morganna continues to stare at the table, she seems almost ashamed at her failure, and she shakes her head as though not wanting to talk about it, "What do you think went wrong?" she snaps, "I went wrong.. I.. I guess.." she rises from the table and pushes the chair away, turning her back on the man in red and slumping forewards, feeling useless. Atrox looks to Gabriel sadly, with a look that tells him to wait before commenting. he walks over to Morganna quietly and places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He says, "You didn't fail. You merely used different tactics than you needed to. Both ways will get the job done, but that is not our way... Not publically.." he looks to Gabriel, motioning for Morganna to sit at the table. Morganna tenses a little at the touch, but nevertheless, she sits down at the table, and rubs her temples, "I'm abraisive.. I can't help it.." she sighs and leans foreward, "I've never been nice, it's like a while fnarkin' personality reprogram.." Bourne inclines his head once, still standing at a rigid posture as he remains silent, watching the two. Bourne tilts his head to the side. "Sir, I believe that her approach was much too brusque, too ..." He pauses, blinking. "Certainly too, for the lack of a better phrase, un-diplomatic. If a person is feeling affronted that a represenative seems to have failed to recognize their supposed importance, it would likely be a better approach to attempt to give them a sense that they /are/ important. An expression of concern, for example, will go a long way, sir." Atrox nods. "Very good, Gabriel." He looks to Morganna. "Wish to try it again? Different situation..." Morganna looks up at the two, slightly flustered. She sighs and runs her hands through her hair, her face reads that she doesn't want to listen to anyone, and her words are strained, "SO I have ta make them feel important even if they're pissin' me off?" Atrox nods, stepping back and allowing Gabriel to try it again.. Morganna looks up at the man in red and then to Gabriel, sighing, "I'll try again... I learn from my screwups... eventually.." the scruffy, scarred woman slowly stands from her chair. Gabriel returns back to the cafe and sits down. He rises again, turning. his face is differemt this time.. A feline face. Not Horansi, but definitely feline. He stalks up to Morganna, bowing slightly. He purrs, "Ambasssssador..? I am K'alyeh U'shh...of the Goldian Syndicate..." The scarred woman tenses as the feline faced Gabriel turns to her, she shivers and shakily extends a hand, "Um, yes.. I'm Ambassador Tazecks of th' Empire, Er.. Pleasure ta meet yer felineness on this rather miserably hot day, I'd hate ta be th' one with fur..." The man in red speaks from behind Morganna.."Pronounce everything succinctly...it shows your learned-ness.." He steps back. Gabriel rises from his bow, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "Is that a slight against my people, Ambasssadorrrrrr? Just like that other Imperrrrrial hu-man." Morganna pulls her hand back and inclines her head, "I apologize, I wasn't sure of yer.. uer.. your um.." she frowns again as she stumbles on words, "Customs. Maybe you can show me how ta greet one of your kind and we can both learn something.." Her voice, while strained as she is thinking, is a little more pleasent this time. she is still a touch unsure of herself. The cat merely says, "mmm. Some learned Ambassador you are. Not to have already learned our customs. You hu-mans are all alike. Perhaps I should go back to my parliament and suggest joining the new Rrrrrepublic afterrrr all..." He trails off, tantalizingly... Morganna looks down and sighs in defeat. She's nice and she fails, she's nasty and she fails. THe woman tries to shrug her dejectedness aside, "I'm not like other humans, um, my resources regarding your people were kind of limited, and although is.. um.. searches, I.. um, duidn't find anything on custioms.." her eye flashes as she begins to at least get in the swing of things, "I'm wiling to discuss trade, and I'm willing to promote more files on your people in the system... um, shall we talk, or have I insulted you?" The cat's eyes narrow, but he says, "Speak. What have the Imperrrrrials to offer the Syndicate?" Morganna rubs her wrist, the one with the input jack in it and she creases her brow, sitting back down on the chair and admitting plainly, rubbing her tebles and looking back at the red coated man, "I really need ta know stuff about hth' freakin' empire, ya know.." The man in red laughs, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. He nods, and the cat departs in silence. The man says, a hint of humor in his voice, "All shall come in time." He takes a datapad out of his pocket, tossing it to Morganna. "Take this. Read up on your free time..." he commands plaintively, as though that's only a minor part fo the job.. Morganna catches the datapad and sighs with mild exertion, "Thanks.. well.. at least I didn't insult him too bad.." she tosses the pad over and over in her hand as she ponders this choice, "This is hard.. but.. then again, I've had a hard life.. Can we continue t'morrow ot somethin'?" The man in red nods. 'That'll be all for today. You'll find accomodations waiting for you aboard the OS guardian...an ambassador's suite. You earned it..not bad for your first day on the job." He walks off, not telling any more details, and several members of the crowd follow suit slowly. Morganna slowly rises from her chair, long after the convoy has left, "Ambassador..." she comments to herself, as though getting used to the foreign word, "Morgi, what have you gotten yerself into this time.." A waiter walks by, almost forgetting something as he passes. He stops, and turns around facing Morganna. "A lot, from the looks of this message.." he drops off a holo-chip from his pocket onto the table and says, "The director thanks you for your cooperation today.." he trails off and follows the convoy out of the plaza... Scarred fingers delecately pick up the holochip and she nods a thanks to the waiter. After flicking the chip between her fingers, Morganna retrieves her personal holopad from her belt and inserts the chip. -------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Atrox *Encrypted and scrambled* --Begin Transmission-- Morganna- You have done well today. I'm impressed at your progress thusfar. Keep it up. Report to your quarters on the Guardian and remain on Deck Four until contacted otherwise. Look for a man in blue. -LA --End Transmission-- -------------------------------------------------------------------- A small smile creeps across her lips as she reads the message, "So I'm doing okay.. I guess That's a good thing." she turns off the datapad and heads towards the starport. Etiquette 101